Xenophon: The first part in an HP epic
by BovineHero
Summary: The story of Tom Riddle's rise, fall, rise then fall from school age to HP7, seen through the eyes of his friend Xenophon Flint. I stay close to the plot, but somethings are changed, that will be explained later.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that's JK Rowlings.

Xenophon is an OC, his surname taken from the Black Family Tree.

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><p>Chapter One: Pureblood and Pride<p>

"_Dis_-gusting."

The word shocked me out of my absent-mindedness. I looked up from my feet as I walked – disappearing and then reappearing from the black material of my robes – to the face of the tall, young and handsome man who I walked beside.

"What's disgusting?" I asked.

Tom Riddle turned up his nose as we walked past a group of fashion-conscious females. They looked at him with interest, but he scowled back.

"Allowing _those_ _types_ in here, into such a prestigious and prominent place of learning as this."

I looked again at the girls. They had ceased their admiring of his lean body and Grecian features, and were now hiding their faces. One even had the distinct mark of tears running down her face. Obviously they had heard his words.

"What 'choo talkin' abou'?"

A small boy, barely five feet tall ran up and began walking along side us.

"Tom's complaining about the mudbloods again," I explained. Orion Black became the third of the company to look at the collection of girls. He ran a tongue over his lips and shrugged.

"Wha's wrang with theem?'

"If my great ancestor could see us now . . ." Tom began to fume with anger. I was sure if he had been holding his wand out steam would have been rising from the end.

The midget Orion crushed his eyebrows together. For all it was worth he had never understood Tom's dislike of the witches and wizards who had been born straight to muggle parents. Part of it lay in his often painful lack of intelligence, but another part lay in his odd (and considerably un-pureblood-like) obsession to pity others.

"I still don't . . ." he started, but I cut the first-year off before he could say anymore.

"Haven't you got a Transfiguration class to get to?" I asked, looking again at Tom, whose face was almost scarlet. Orion stopped and gazed up at me.

He nibbled his lip nervously. Then he nodded, his two chins wobbling frantically. "Yes Mr. Flint, sir, sorry sir."

He hurried off, hands clutching his too-long robes so that he didn't trip and fall and die.

I heard a sigh from the head above mine. "Fat little sod."

"He's a kid, Tom, don't be cruel."

There was silence from the great Slytherin Seeker, who had led his team to victory twice and was the favourite to take up the captaincy next year. He kept quiet, clearly contemplating my comments and those of our younger house-brother over in his mind. It was a shame, really, the way he treated Orion sometimes. The young Black looked up to Tom Riddle as an idol, an example of greatness.

He kept quiet until we had settled into our next class. "Nevertheless Xenophon," he whispered me in dark tones as we unloaded our heavy cauldrons onto the desks, "As a pureblood he should know better. To have sympathy for those – those _leeches -_"

"Mister Riddle, Mister Flint," came a booming voice. I jumped, dropping my jar of doxy hair on the desk with a loud _clonk_. Tom extended his height in his usual dignified manner, and stared at the Professor of Potions with a look of obvious annoyance.

Slughorn crossed his arms over his bulging chest and tapped a foot, waiting for something.

I knew what he was waiting for, but I did not want to apologise, and I knew Tom would never; else it would crush his pride. Realising neither of us was going to say sorry, Slughorn spoke, "I do not appreciate _anyone_ in my classes who does not want to learn. If you have no interest in this class, and all you want to do is talk all the way through it, then I suggest that we talk about later about your quitting it! Is that what you want, Riddle, Flint? Do you want to fail?"

He fell silent again, and the entire class was watching us. I looked at Tom, unsure of what to do. Everyone in the school knew of his great pride, Slughorn included. The fact that he was the Head of our House did not help.

I did not want to risk anything. Despite my own distaste of apologising, I enjoyed potions and Tom's company. "My sincere apologies sir," I said, bowing my head. Once I was erect again, I waited until Slughorn nodded and knew I was forgiven. Then we both looked at Tom. His face was set and determined, unwavering.

Slughorn and the entire class waited for a further five minutes. When the time had passed and the Hufflepuff girls were beginning to squirm with boredom Slughorn unfolded his arms and looked away.

"If that is what you wish, Riddle, then I must ask you to get out of this classroom and wait outside until the duration of the lesson. After that time, come back inside and we'll discuss . . ."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Tom said in a drawl. It was obvious he did not mean it. Without waiting for Slughorn's acceptance he slumped back into his chair, face dark, thoughts murderous.

Professor Slughorn blinked, surprised. Then he shook himself, knowing that it was all he could ever get out of Tom Riddle, proud descent of Salazar Slytherin himself. As the fat man began the lesson and the class began to rattle their ingredients and bags Tom found the opportunity to mutter to me.

"Useless bumpkin," he cursed.

I ignored him and carried on, thankful that this once I was not going to have to beg anyone to let him remain in the class.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Myrtle and Murder

Hogwarts was in uproar.

The dead body lay on the floor of the entrance hall, in the centre where it had been found. Professors from all subjects and Houses surrounded it, raising their arms and wands to keep the mass of students away. There was a group of girls, the same group of Muggle-borns Tom had slighted earlier in the month, weeping and wailing. The Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, was the only one not there, probably off with his favourite pupils on a special field trip.

I had awoken, like many, to a loud scream that shook the whole castle. Startled, I leapt out of bed, looking around. The others in the dorm were up too, heads peering out in confusion. Justin Bleacher stood, grabbed a jumper and walked sleepily to the chamber door. The two others followed suit, leaving me and Tom, who had not yet appeared out of his bed. I waited a while, then called out his name.

"Tom?"

Nothing. Eventually I gave up and ran to his bed, where the curtains were still drawn tightly shut. I wrenched one aside, unsure of what I was going to say, when I stopped. He was not there, his sheets were entirely untouched. Even the tank with his precious tiny python was empty, the lid cast to one side.

If it had been anyone else I might have panicked, but Tom had always been an individual. No doubt he was on some philosophical night-stroll, hissing quietly to the creature. He had never invited me to join him, and I was glad. If I had asked, I would most likely be expelled from his closely knit company. Gathering my wits and my velveteen over-robes I joined the rest, hoping that the scream was not connected to the absence of my best friend.

We left the dungeons with many suspicions. As we leapt through the hole everyone from first-years to seventh-years joined us, sprawling in curiosity to see what was going on. It was a few short corridors to the entrance hall, where the scream had come from, and where everyone was crowded, even the Hufflepuffs who were famous for their love of beauty sleep.

Seeing us there Slughorn came forwards and tried to force us back. "Go back to your beds now, nothing to see at all, nothing to see."

I wished I was as tall as Tom, or he was at least here as we strained over the heads to see the cause of such distress. But Slughorn was not having it. Shaking his head he stepped forwards. "Now back to bed the lot of you."

But curiousity, once lit cannot be abated. I turned around, forced my way through the crowd and found the way to the staircase Tom had shown me when we had been in our second year. I climbed it, looking back to check that I was not being followed. Once satisfied I continued my way until I got the balcony with the wheezing suit of armour who carried an iron mace. Once there, I could overlook the hall and see the cause of all the commotion.

"Who is it?" An excited girl asked.

Her friend, who was near the front of the crowd and could see, answered, "Oh my, its Myrtle!" I recognised the voice of Minerva McGonnagall, a pretty Gryffindor seventh-year.

"Myrtle!" The name resounded through the crowd faster than any one could say "Merlin's Beard", much to the dislike of the teachers. One of them even sighed dramatically, lowering her arms, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

I knew straight away who they spoke of. Myrtle was a Ravenclaw Fourth-year who had thick glasses, matted hair and constant sniffles. She was one of those people who you saw but hardly ever heard. It was more common to hear Olive Hornby or another gossiping flirt talking about her.

And now, somehow, she was dead. And Tom was nowhere to be seen. I began to look around the crowd for his familiar leering face, but could not see him. Instead I was greeted by a strange hiss of contempt from behind me. I turned around and saw him appear from the doorway, his snake slung around his shoulders, her tongue tasting the air in smooth motions.

He hissed for a sentence more and I raised an eyebrow. He knew perfectly well that I could not understand his Parseltongue. He smirked and repeated himself in English, "I said good morning, Xenophon."

"Good morning, Tom," I said impatiently, "Have you got anything to do with this?" I gestured behind me to the events unfolding in the entrance hall. Tom leaned over, and shrugged.

"I might do, might not."

"For goodness sakes, Tom," I cursed, "There's a dead student down there."

"I know," he said, "And soon enough the culprit will be away from our halls."

I looked at him, my eyes widening. Surely he wasn't leaving. There were some things I disliked about Tom Riddle, but I had no other friends in this place. We were the two orphans in the school, two people who could depend on one another because we had no one else. I even put up with his henchmen; Avery and Lestrange.

"Indeed," he smiled, "Soon the half-giant Hagrid will be out of here, and we will be one more down on our unworthy students."

"Rubeus?" I swallowed, and looked down again at the girl's body. Rubeus Hagrid was a huge Gryffindor, tall and big. He had an obsession with all animals alive and dangerous, and during Care of Magical Creatures Lessons we often were placed together as partners. I would miss him, it was a shame that Tom's own personal obsessions with purebloods could lead to such things as this.

Tom joined me, his snake curling around his neck. I watched him as he gazed down at the body of students and teachers, and noticed that there was no pity in his eyes, there was only satisfaction. I did not want to believe it, but I knew in my heart that he was at least partially responsible for her death.

"She did nothing wrong," I said in a quiet voice.

As soon as I had spoken, he turned to me, a flourish of movement. His wand came out; he shoved me back until we were in the darkness of the doorway. Anger burned through his veins as he forced me against the wall, wand pointing at my heart. I could have reached for my own, but I knew that it would only make him angrier.

"She was a hindrance," he hissed, his voice as dark as when he spoke the damned language to his snake, "A creature of irritating worthlessness in the way of my rightful place as Heir."

"But you didn't have to kill her," I spat back.

Tom glared at me, dark eyes matching his dark hair. He stepped back, but did not release me. "I did not kill her," he said quietly.

"Then what _did_?" I almost shouted back, "What on earth _did_?"

He lowered his eyes, his free hand curling into a fist, and smiled faintly. "You are a good friend, Xenophon Flint, a good friend indeed, and I hope that you understand how much I appreciate you. I promise, before the time comes when we leave this place, graduated as true wizards, that I will tell you everything. Until then, I ask you one thing," his eyes flickered up to mine, locking them deeply and severely. Seriousness boiled around him, he held me there, and capturing my spirit with such intensity I thought he would rip it out of my body.

"I ask that you trust me, and you follow me. If you never ask about these things again, and do whatever I ask, I promise that when I rise to greatness I will take you with me. I will not abandon those who serve me well."

My breath caught in my chest, and the words resounded around in my head, those words that caused me to realise that he was not playing games, that he was entirely serious.

_Those who serve me_. I swallowed, and found I could breathe again, my heart thundering. Here he was, my best friend, the one who had always been around to beat those who hated me back. Here he was, the descendent of Sytherin, and one of the greatest students Hogwarts had ever seen. Here he was, asking me to never ask questions again, to do whatever he asked, to follow him, despite whatever fears I may have.

"Xenophon?"

I blinked a great many times, hating that he could do this to me. He knew well enough that I had nobody else but him. Take his friendship away and I was left bare, an empty shard ready to be smashed.

"Friend?"

I looked deep into his eyes again, and saw them swim. No longer were they purely dark and determined, in them I saw such pleading that I had never noticed before. He was asking me to trust him, to put all accusations aside and treat him as I would any good friend. And to me, he was the best of friends, a man one could look up to as a shining example of what our race could be.

There was only one answer I could give. In that darkened secret corridor, with the panic of the world before us I swore my fealty to my best friend for six years.

"Of course," I smiled at him, "Of course, Tom."

And Tom Riddle smiled back.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Ring and Rubeus

It was raining when I returned to Hogwarts for my last year. I had spent the summer between Tom's company, camping in the woods near where his parents had once lived, and after he had decided enough was enough, I came back to Hogwarts, having found out that Professor Dumbledore arranged for Rubeus to stay on as Gamekeeper. We spent a few sun-filled weeks romping through the Forbidden Forest, discovering three new species of Fantastic Beast and chasing unicorns. The colony of centaurs who lived there turned out to be grumpy things, who had a complete dislike and disregard for humans, but who put up with the students and teachers of Hogwarts because of the privacy and protection from Muggles they achieved.

The rest of the students returned with the usual cheers and horseless carriages. I waited at the gates along with the long-bearded Dumbledore. Rubeus was hiding in his newly built house, nervous about seeing his once fellow classmates, now an employee at Hogwarts. As the carriages drew to a halt I waited in nervous agitation for Tom. Ever since I had given him my word to follow him, I had felt distant from him. It was like he was no longer just my friend, but more like an elder brother, someone who expected me to respect and look up to him.

My heart thudded in my chest when he stepped down from the carriage, followed by Avery and Lestrange. He seemed even prouder, if that was possible, he never lowered his head, he kept his shoulders back and his eyes changed the direction of his gaze with smooth decisive flickers.

"This will be an interesting year," Professor Dumbledore said in a lilting voice. I knew he was looking at Tom also.

I kept my excitement at bay, instead of rushing up to him, I quietly walked forwards and stopped a few feet away. When he noticed me, he smiled. However, his smile was not so much one of friendliness, more of satisfaction.

"Ah, Xenophon," he said, "Good to see you are still here."

"Where else would I be?" I grinned, but he did not seem to find it amusing. Instead he scowled a little in displeasure. I knew then, that the year was, indeed, going to be very interesting.

He looked at me in silence. It took me a moment to realise I was between him and the entrance hall. I stepped to the side, and his gaze followed me. It passed by me, towards the place where the horses should be, and stared for a while. I crushed my eyebrows together, trying to understand what he was looking at apart from air, and then he shook himself and began to walk in. I was confused, glanced from him to the space, but fell in behind Avery and Lestrange anyway. We ascended the steps and glided across the floor as a dark cloud fell across the Castle of Hogwarts School.

I lay in bed that night, trying to figure out what had happened. I had left Tom in a fairly good mood, or so I had thought. It had been me who had done all the work whilst camping, I had pitched the tents, collected the firewood, even cooked the food, whilst he had sat there, thinking. Sometimes he held his old diary in his hands, clearly in thought, sometimes he would suddenly launch into a random conversation, but he had always been _my friend_. But now – it was different. Whether I had missed something, or something terrible had happened in the last two months of summer, I did not know, but he had definitely changed. Now I could now talk to him as my friend, I could not discuss beautiful girls or life in general. All he wanted to know was how he was doing in his efforts to become history's best wizard, and I had to support him.

After all, he was the best friend I ever had and I had promised to trust him.

A few days later we were in Care of Magical Creatures, looking at the differences between the Knarl and Hedgehogs, when I noticed a change in Tom's appearance. He twirled a ring around his right pinky, a ring that had never been there before. It was gold, a thick band that on its display side protruded into an oval shape, and in this a black stone was placed, engraved with the initial 'S'.

"You have a new ring?" I asked, pointing at it.

Tom was suddenly startled, he looked at me, then covered up the ring with his other hand, turning it so the 'S' was away from me and buried in his palm. "Yes," he stuttered, "Nothing really, just a family heirloom."

"Heirloom?" he knew well enough that I knew he knew nothing of his family. He was an orphan. Like myself.

"Forget it," he hissed, standing up and striding away.

I was left with the Knarl curled in my hands. It snuffled its nose at me as if to say, "I have no idea." "Yeah," I replied, "I have no idea either."

Despite the fact he had hidden the ring from me the first time I had mentioned it, Tom wore it from then on. It did not take me long to figure out that the 'S' meant for 'Slytherin' and that it was actually an Heirloom. As long as I did not mention it he did not talk about it, and I was allowed to remain in his company.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Questions and Quarrels (hp half-blood prince chpt23 "Horcruxes")

Half of the month had passed, and Tom, as usual, had gained to the top of most classes. I am happy to say that I was still at the top of Care of Magical Creatures, but without Rubeus I was considerably lonely. I still had Tom, and Avery, Lestrange and Justin were constantly there for company but everything was different. Our whole lives had shifted, altered in a single summer, and now we were followers of Tom Riddle, the young genius.

As time went on Tom became more and more obsessed with the idea of extending one's life. Already as wizards we could expect to live well beyond the years of a simply Muggle, but he, as usual, wanted more. He began to spend hours pouring over old books in the library, those that concerned creatures already who could live for an unusually long time. In Care of Magical Creatures he once dared to ask about the possibilities of drinking unicorn blood, and Professor Mayblush shouted back at him with such horror in her voice that Tom knew to never mention about it again. Instead he kept his own thoughts to himself, and only voiced them when the opportunity arose.

One such time was in Defence Against the Dark Arts, when old Professor Merrythought, who was rumoured to be retiring due to his nervous disposition gave a lecture on vampires and werewolves.

"Lycanthropy, unlike Vampirism, affects the individual only at the specific time of the month. Vampirism, however, affects the individual for the rest of their life. One similarity between the two is the absence of a cure, another is that every vampire and every werewolf was once a normal human just like you or I."

"Sir," Justin Bleacher, who sat diagonally opposite from us, raised a hand.

"Yes, Bleacher?"

"Is it only wizards who can become wolves and vamps, or can Muggles become them too?"

Merrythought stopped as if he had been dreading that question. He shivered, his nerves obviously getting the better of him. "It is uncertain, Bleacher. Werewolves in their human form can have ordinary lives; the majority of them are wizards. It is believed that some Muggle werewolves exist but they die within twenty years of their transformation, due to their weakness to magic. Vampires on the other hand . . ." he trembled, "They are, and always have been, considered non-wizards. As soon as one is infected with vampirism they are a lost cause."

"But is it true, sir," Tom stood up, not wanting to wait whilst he held a hand in the air, and leant forwards onto his desk, "Is it true that they are immortal?"

Merrythought paled. He muttered something inaudible, then continued in a tiny voice, "That is true, Riddle, that unless a vampire is killed it will live forever."

I looked up at Tom, and saw a glint of intrigue in his eye.

"But I warn you, a vampire's life is not a full life. They must forever struggle with the desire to kill, as well as cope with the inability to walk in society."

Tom did not smile but I knew the quiver in the corner of his mouth well enough. It was his dream to rule over society one day anyway, so it did not matter what society thought now.

"And how sir, would a man be inflicted with vampirism?"

Merrythought blinked, "Well, like lycanthropy the victim must be maimed by a Dark creature first, then it is believed, the victim must, well _drink_ the Dark creature's blood. It is even worse, for when one is attacked and bitten by a werewolf in its wolf form, one will automatically join that cursed race, but vampires . . . a vampire will always choose its own fate."

My blood ran cold with the words. Why would anyone ever choose such a fate for himself?

But Tom, being Tom, kept asking questions.

"Have you ever met -"

"Patience, Tom Riddle, patience, we will get to that subject in time." And that was that. Tom was silenced, he slowly descended back into his seat, with a yet more determined glare on his face.

The next time, however, was a little different. Our Head of House, Slughorn, was nevertheless an optimistic, cheerful man. He supported us in earnest during Quidditch season, and on the day Tom, now Captain, achieved the first win of the year he invited the older members of the team, plus a few chosen extras, such as myself, for late night cocktails in his office. Presumably to say thank you Tom had sent me to Hogsmeade via an underground tunnel to buy a tin of crystallised pineapple. He then presented it to Slughorn, who began devouring at once and complimented Tom by saying he could make it to being Minister for Magic in fifteen years, no worry.

"I don't know if I want to go into politics," Tom smiled, "I lack experience, for one."

Justin smirked, we all knew that Tom was a natural-born leader, and could easily attain such a position. I smirked also, but for a quite different reason; I knew that being the Minister for Magic was not what Tom wanted, he wanted power, not responsibility.

"It is obvious to me," Slughorn replied, popping a chunk of pineapple in his mouth, "That you come from great wizarding stock. Your abilities, for instance. And I have never been wrong about anyone. You will go far, I am sure." Then he jerked, "Is that the time? Gosh, well you lot better be getting to bed now, else I will get into trouble too."

He muttered something about Avery and Lestrange, but it was incoherent in the voices as we stood up and began to file out of the room. I walked with the rest of them until I realised Tom was not following, then I turned, looking for him. He had hardly moved. He stood there, waiting for Slughorn as the man poured himself another port.

"Tom?" I hissed.

He shook his head firmly at me and bade me away with a hand. But there was no way I was merely going to go. I gestured to the doorway and sank back into the shadows as Slughorn turned around again, and found Tom was still there.

"Get to bed now, Tom, it wouldn't be good to be seen after hours especially as a prefect."

"But sir, I want to ask something."

Slughorn waited, smiling.

"What do you know . . . about Horcruxes?" The word caught me off guard. I had seen it scribbled down on one of the pages in Tom's diary but had never asked anything about it. Slughorn seemed to know what they were though, he was surprised and began calling them "dark, very dark indeed."

Tom was more patient with him than he was with any man, me included. He complimented Slughorn with a few laced and frilly words, allowing the Potions teacher to come up with his own explanation.

"It can't hurt to give you an overview," Slughorn mumbled, speaking his thoughts allowed. "A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person places part of their soul."

Their soul. My insides immediately began to burn, and I knew instantly that this subject was not healthy for anyone. A hard lump seared in my throat, but Tom kept jibbing for more answers. He asked how it worked, in the politest language possible.

"You split your soul," Slughorn sighed, "And put part of it in an object. Then if you are attacked, or if you die, then your soul remains on the earth . . ."

I looked at the man whom I had promised my loyalty to, and saw his hands begin to shake. Just as rage often seared through him, excitement and anticipation had him in their grip at this time. To me the entire thing sounded dreadfully evil.

Tom, though, prodded for more answers. He asked the Professor, who was now babbling his answers with little enthusiasm, how to split ones soul.

"By murdering," Slughorn sighed, "You split your soul automatically then, and a part of it can be inserted into an object . . ."

"How?"

"I don't know!" Slughorn shook his head madly, "I have no idea, a spell or something. Why would I know, do I look like a killer?"

"Of course not, sir," Tom hurriedly replied. I could hear the impatience now, seeping through the emptiness of some of Slughorn's answers.

"You have wonderful calibre Tom," Slughorn sank into the cushions of his seat, "Curiosity is natural," he said, as if consoling himself, trying to make himself believe that Tom was an innocent young man. My own curiousity was getting the better of me. As the subject continued onto murder, I found myself fading into silence. I crept away, finding it unbarable to hear anymore and took the secret passageways back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Ten minutes later Tom reappeared, and immediately turned on me in hushed tones.

"Are you a fool, Xenophon?" he seethed, slamming me against the wall, an act which was becoming rather a common occurrence.

Fearfully, I shook my head, "No, of course not, Tom. I just . . ." I tailed off, realising that what I was about to say would not go down well.

"Well what?" he forced my eyes to contact with his, as if he could see my thoughts in them.

"You aren't going to make one of those things are you?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Tom's lips pursed, he put his head to one side and considered. "Do you remember what I asked you to do five months ago, Xenophon?" he asked.

Five months ago. I knew exactly when he meant. It was the time when all of this had begun, when he had held his wand at my heart for the first time and got me to swear my loyalty to him forever and after. It was the time when Myrtle, now a ghost in the girl's toilet, had died.

"You asked me to trust you," I said in the smallest of voices.

"And do you?" he asked, his question full of testing and determination. I chewed the inside of my mouth, unsure of what to say. I was not sure if I trusted him, all that he had done in the past month alone had made me realise he was not the best friend I had always imagined he would be for the rest of our lives.

I was not sure.

Tom's hand twitched a little towards his pocket where I knew he kept his wand. I suddenly blurted, without any ceremony, "Of course I do, Tom, of course I do."

"Then good," Tom smiled, "Because I trust you. And friends remain together, do they not, Xenophon?"

"Yes Tom," I mumbled.

He man cast me into a father-like embrace for the first, and what would be the last time, in our lives.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Damnation and Determination

October. My favourite month. Or it was until that year.

Tom was spending more and more time away. I assumed much of it was in the library but there were other places he disappeared to also. Ever since we had met in first year he had always had his own, private, adventures. It was nearing this month also that he began to pay much closer attention to his beloved pet snake. He began to search around for a name, and Justin and I began our own research, giving such suggestions as "madu" (Estonian for 'snake'), "ular" (Indonesian for 'snake') and "naga" (Sanskrit for 'snake').

His interest in the subject of extending life was growing ambitious. He had drawn a map of the world and pinned it up on the headboard of his bed. During the day he would keep his bed curtains closed so that no one could see it, but sometimes he would leave them deliberately open on my side, just so that I could see his work. There were different coloured pins marking sightings and stories of the various creatures and legends he was following, concentrating mainly on black and green.

"You know, Xenophon," he said in a specially revealing time. He sat gazing at the map while he absent-mindedly stroked the cover of his old diary. It was so precious to him that for the last few months he had kept it locked away in a small wooden box in his snake's tank. I looked up from the book on 'Right ways to cast an Incantation'. He went on, "I do believe I am getting closer to finding the answer."

"The answer to what?" I asked, and my reply was a rather amused smile.

That night, after behaving more than usually distracted, Tom went on his usual midnight saunter (this time with his precious diary) and I found the opportunity to look more closely at the map.

It was a well-drawn illustration of the world, though Europe's size was vastly exaggerated. In the middle of the North Atlantic a box was drawn with a key in it and various pins of various colours. I learnt that black meant stories or sightings of vampires, and green identified those places were enchantments concerning 'enlonged life' were in the local legends. A particularly large mass of black pins were concentrated around Transylvania, Romania, and a few were dotted over the area of Germany known as the Black Forest. A number of green were mingled with yellow (indicating unicorns) in the country of Albania.

I heard the sound of scuffled footsteps outside the door, and I scrambled from his bed back into mine, making sure I shut the curtains firmly behind me. The door opened, and then I heard the quiet movements as he moved across the floor to his bed. In that moment I dared to pull back the edge of one of my bed curtains. I saw the edge of a heel, and the lithe body of his python slithering over the ground. I heard a gentle hiss, and I crept back.

"You didn't move any did you, Xenophon?"

The voice was low and whispering, but nevertheless frightening. A part of me wanted to say nothing and pretend I was sleeping, but as usual his uncanny powers got the better of me.

I drew back the curtain between my bed and his, and gasped.

Tom stood in the bright light of a full moon that illuminated his skin to something beyond silver. His shoulders were back, his head held high, and he looked down at me from a loftiness I knew I could never reach, with black eyes glistening. There was a strange eeriness around him, as if he had gained another twenty followers in a single hour, his demeanour expressed everything _powerful_.

"Xenophon?" He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured to his headboard with his head.

I stood up, hands up in front of me, professing innocence. "No, no," I said quickly, "I only looked at them . . . sorry."

From his height, that seemed to have only gotten greater, Tom scrutinised me with such intensity that I was forced to look away. I looked down at the ground, unsure of if he was angry or just irritated.

Then, quite suddenly, he relaxed, and smiled. "I forgive you," he said, and the way that he said it made it seem as if I was truly forgiven, even by whatever gods might be watching me of my terrible sin, "Curiosity is healthy, but things still must be approached with caution."

He paused, and looked at me, as if expecting something.

I floundered, "Eh . . . Of course?"

"Especially in these times," he took a long breath, filling his lungs, and the relaxed, stretching out an arm and placing it on my shoulder. There was something about him tonight, something that made him seem more real, more alive, more overwhelmingly powerful, and that itself had a distinctive bizarre attractiveness to it. He turned, moving me at the same time so I was face to face with the map once more. "Because you see, Xenophon, for certain things there are certain times to be curious, and for use this is a time to seek our potential. This map holds the key to many secrets still to be unlocked by men, and I am determined to be the first one to discover them. But," he sighed, "I cannot work on my own, I need help, _your_ help, in making this a success."

The words floated in the air, mesmerising and seductive. I listened to them in my mind as they encircled me and created ropes that bound me to his will.

"You will help me, Xenophon?" he asked, his voice lilting and soft. "You will help your best friend, will you not?"

I swallowed, the air around me thin and light, so much so it was hard to think. And so my mind encouraged my brain to tell my mouth to move, and my vocal cords to vibrate to say the words. And as I did I realised that Tom had gone with his diary and that now, it was nowhere to be seen. And the ring on his finger – now close to my face I could see it gleam with an essence of its own I had never noticed before . . . But it was too late.

"Of course I will, Tom," I said in a high voice that I did not recognise as my own.

"I have a new name," he said, and he whispered four distinct and melodic syllables into my ear. "Try it," he bade me, and I found myself grinning like a fool.

"Lord Voldemort," I whispered for the first time, and the world around us began to rapidly change.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Dumbledore and Decisions

Our quiet lives altered dramatically. To the outside world we were a group of excelling students, with the exceedingly talented Tom Riddle at our centre, but inwardly we were a new cult order. Tom, or 'Voldemort' as he encouraged us to title him when alone, was more of a god to us than anything. Avery and Lestrange began to hero-worship him, calling him "your Lordship" at any opportunity and making a point of being the most servile, submitting to his every whim. But it was me he kept close; I was given the honoured task of assisting him in his studies, and adding to the map when new information arose to opportunity. He insisted that I study it, know the entire globe perfectly, and so long hours of my free time were dedicated to gazing at it in all its glorious magnificence.

After Transfiguration one particular day I was purposefully asked to remain behind to help Dumbledore tidy up the mass of Peafowl transformed from ugly ducklings. Uncertain as to why I was specially chosen I remained with caution, as Tom left the room he shot me a warning glare, my signal to not say any more than was necessary.

When it was certain that all the other students had gone, and we had ushered every peafowl into a cupboard, Dumbledore turned to me. He clicked the door shut, waited for a moment, and then bade me follow him to his desk. He twiddled his wand, lit a couple of candles stuck onto the wood from the end of it, then sat down. His blue eyes gazed at me and he motioned towards the chair opposite him.

"Sit down, Xenophon," he said kindly. I perched awkwardly on the edge.

"Xenophon," he pushed his glasses further up his nose with a forefinger, blinked, and then smiled. "Xenophon, I hope you are enjoying your time here at this school."

The statement took me somewhat by surprise. I nodded, "Of course, sir."

"And I hope that you would wish to be associated with Hogwarts for further years to come."

"Yes, sir," I said, nodding more enthusiastically, "I have felt exceedingly welcome here."

Dumbledore paused, as if uncertain, but he kept his gaze firmly locked to mine. "I understand you have an exceptional talent for Care of Magical Creatures, something that I could see becoming very crucial to your development as a student and as a mature wizard when you graduate."

"I hope to continue my studies in it after my education here, sir."

"Good, good," his smile had been growing, until now it reached his eyes, which sparkled. "In life you should always study and do with your life what you wish, not what others tell you to do."

A cold fever took hold of my spine. My muscles seized, and my mind was suddenly very alert. What did he suspect, what did he know? I tried to keep my outward appearance much the same, I kept my breath regulated and stared at him with the same consistency.

"Of course sir," I said before I could stop myself. I curse inwardly. Perhaps I had spoken a little too quickly. I summoned up what wit I had and continued, "I am very grateful to Hogwarts to giving me the opportunities that they did. When I was living with my grandfather it did not seem I would get such an opportunity as this . . . I mean to say," I cringed inside at the disaster of my words, "Hogwarts has enabled me to make my own decisions in life. To be independent."

Once the words, and the lies, had escaped my lips, I let out a long, quiet sigh. My physical appearance also altered, my stiffness went and I relaxed against the back of the chair. Such relief came over me that for a time I forgot where I was. I suddenly realised that I was opposite a very significant and powerful wizard. At once I stiffened again, and looked to see his eyes still on me, eyebrows interestedly raised, expression definitely inquisitive.

I said nothing; instead I took a leaf out of Tom's own book. Rolling my shoulders back and raising my chin I attempted to display the picture of strength and boldness. It only made Dumbledore more suspicious, however. He clasped his hands and raised them to his chin.

Then he sadly smiled, and spoke in the quietest voice I have ever heard.

"Don't try to be like him, Xenophon, it doesn't suit you."

I felt a well of despair inside. Not taking any chances, I whispered my excuses, then stood, my eyes dropping away, down to my feet. I sauntered from the room, my mind now full of nervousness and conflicting thoughts, my world quaking. Dumbledore was not a fool, I knew, and I feared to discover what other soul-rendering thoughts he could say.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Christmas and Change

I did not tell Tom what Dumbledore had said. When I came out of the Transfiguration room he pounced on me, intent on gleaning every little piece of information. I relayed the main words of our conversation, including my answer, though I did not reveal the fact that I had wilted.

Despite these things Tom was determined to continue on with his 'plan'. He began to make Christmas plans. Ever since I had left the house of my moody grandfather four years previously, we had spent our holidays together. I knew that before Hogwarts he had lived in an orphanage somewhere south, and had returned there every summer until last. But this year he proposed that we begin travelling, and in accordance with his map he thought the Black Forest would be best. I was frightened in no little way about the prospect of vampires, but knew that with him I would be safe.

Between my interview with Dumbledore and the beginning of the Christmas holidays Tom grew more and more serious. He knew that Dumbledore had his suspicions, and so began to spend large amounts of time working on his outward appearance to the world. He won Slytherin a second match, and volunteered for several school projects, such as becoming a 'study companion' with one of the younger students. He encouraged Avery, Lestrange and the others to do the same, but insisted that I remain as I was, for whatever reason. So I kept myself in front of the map, where I started to add details to each pin, drawing lines between connected points, etc.

Avery and Lestrange wrote to their parents and got permission to travel with us, though they were given a rather large number of rules. Lestrange, for instance, was not yet seventeen, and so could not perform magic unless in an educational aspect. But Tom never considered leaving him behind, although I did suggest it more than once.

"I need three, Xenophon," he kept saying, "I need three." I reminded him that Avery was coming too, so that meant three, but he seemed to not understand. I told myself that the amount of stress must be playing with his mind; I considered that perhaps he was not counting himself.

The only thing that was necessary for us to properly learn before we left was Apparition. As Lestrange was younger it was uncertain whether we would be able to travel to the Black Forest in this way. But as usual Tom surprised us. One evening in early December he revealed it was possible to take someone along with you when you apparated, in form called Side-along Apparition. He had already applied for Avery, him and I to take an early exam, and told us that we had to pass, that there was no other option. Neither of us wanted to find out what would happen if we did not pass, and so we studied and practised relentlessly.

The last meal in the Great Hall of the Christmas holidays was somewhat astounding. The Headmaster Armando Dippet had a bright smile, and wore a green bauble attached to his hat. He thanked us for a fantastic first term, and then proudly pronounced that everyone who had sat the early Apparition exam had passed. Avery and I grinned, Tom did not seem surprised - he sat still, not even acknowledging our success.

The food, as usual, was wonderful. We ate mushroom risotto with home-grown herbs, turkey stuffed with breadcrumbs and an odd purple vegetable that tasted vaguely of nutmeg. I began to stuff myself, washing it all down with copious amounts of orange juice, when I looked up and saw Tom watching me, eyes matching a rather sly smile. He did not change when I put down the silver fork, and swallowed what was left in my full mouth. Thinking he was going to say something I put my hands on the edge of the table, and waited, but all that happened was his smile grew wider, and more secretive.

I glanced around to Avery and Lestrange, but it was me the expression was aimed at. Nervous, I threw my gaze to the tabletop and did not eat another bite.

We left Hogwarts with the rest of the students in the horseless carriages that Tom found rather amusing. As he had when he had arrived back at the end of the summer he looked at them curiously, and then ascended into the vehicle. At the end of the journey we all alighted at the station, but instead of taking the train we walked towards the lights of Hogsmeade.

"It is best we travel in stages," Tom said, "Having only just passed our exam it will be hard for you to go directly to the Black Forest without splinching." He did not mention himself, for he, and we ourselves, believed he was capable of it anyway.

"So first we will go to Gretna Green London, from there Northern France, Paris, Strasburg, then finally Black Forest. Lestrange," Tom beckoned him over, "Come with me."

Lestrange pattered over in awe, and placed his hand on Tom's shoulder.

"After three," Tom said, "One, two, th-"

Half an hour - and three shopping bags later - we arrived in the Black Forest, South Germany.

Where I would stay for the next eleven years.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: The Black Forest and Blood

The trees grew too close together for my liking. They stretched for miles to either side, so far that I doubted one man could walk through the entirety, and remain sane. As soon as we struck ground I did not care for the place, the endless expanse of trunks, the lack of peace as at least twenty different bird species sang in the trees, the lack of quiet bubbling streams. My immediate reaction was to apparate away again, but Tom began walking. He let go of Lestrange and strode into the depths of the trees. The three of us looked at one another, and then followed him as we should.

We walked for a considerable time in silence, until at last we came across a wide river, too big to cross without thought. Tom stopped, then turned and looked at me.

"Where are we, Xenophon?" he asked.

I was caught aback, then realised that he was relying on my knowledge of the map I had spent such a lengthy amount of time studying recently. I walked forwards, trying to figure out which river this was by the mountains around it, the type of trees and so on. It took a while, but eventually I came to my conclusion.

"There are remnants of a medieval pureblood civilisation over there," I pointed upstream, "A certified unicorn habitat about ten miles there," I pointed to two o'clock on my view, over the river and onto the other side, "And over there," I finished with a gesture roughly downstream, but a few inches to the left, "In a radius of around fifty miles there are confirmed vampire sightings, from where we stand to the other side."

"Perfect," Tom grinned, and he set off - but not towards the settlement as I would have expected. He turned right to the river and began walking along its edge, deeper into danger, deeper into possible death. Fearing nothing Tom walked, and expected us to follow him, straight towards the heart of the vampire sightings.

Avery kept a check on our distance on a device, powered by his wand, which measured how many miles we walked, and roughly the direction. We kept following the river bank, until it was necessary, as far as I knew, to turn north and go deeper into the woods. I had no idea, and I suspected the other two were the same, what Tom's plans were when we got to the place where the vampire was hiding.

Eventually we travelled five miles with no sign of the Dark creature, and I could see that Tom was getting impatient. I took out my wand and was about to start a finding spell, when the words were said for me. Tom's wand flickered around and pointed back the way we had come. Confused, Tom turned and followed it, but after ten paces it turned around and pointed back to us. The trees here were wide enough apart for everything to be clearly seen. Lestrange walked around the nearest one, but found nothing. Avery searched the ground, as if a trap door could be seen. I was the only one who thought to look up.

Something terribly dark, something that resembled a beast with raking claws and scarlet eyes fell from the shadows of the branches. With agility that I had only ever seen in a unicorn it leapt straight towards Tom, the remnants of torn robes fluttering over pale skin. In a cry of panic I ran towards Tom, shoving him over, just as the creature landed on my back and brought me crashing to the ground. I lay on my back, hand broken, feet bent underneath me, unable to get up as a great weight pressed me into the earth. A face, gaunt and death-like loomed into my vision and smiled to reveal curved white fangs – then all I knew was the flesh at my jugular ripping open, my blood pouring out over the forest ground, and my loss of life as I was slipping, slipping, slipping . . .

Black.

Freezing cold liquid splashed over my face. I gasped. There was still blood rushing from my throat, and I was sure I had been dying from loss of blood, but now as my body faced the prospect of drowning it strove to survive. I gasped again, more blood burst out in a river as my heart beat frantically, and I struggled to sit up, to open my eyes, to do _anything_.

"Xenophon," came a soft, soothing voice. I could not see but I knew the voice, I knew it was Tom, looking after me, helping me to survive. After all I had saved his life.

"The – the vv-vvvampi -" Why where they still _here_? Shouldn't they be running, fleeing for their lives?

"Shush," he said, and something with a definite edge was pressed to my lips, "Here, drink this and all will be better."

"Whatever your purpose," a new voice said, one that was exotic, near, but yet seemed so distant, "This is certainly not the -"

"Be quiet!" Tom commanded in a tone that was more him, and then he spoke to me again. "Come, drink, Xenophon, and all will be well."

I believed him, of course I did. And whilst my body cried out for mercy to be released from life, my mind sought his words and clung to them as a chance to survive and live. My lips pressed around the curve of the cup held to my mouth, weakly at first, but as the edge was tipped up my tongue stretched forwards to try to catch a hold of whatever potion it was that would help me to get better it gained strength. I eagerly strained towards the goodness, the beautiful, beautiful liquid, that was suddenly vertical, the whole lot forced into my mouth, and down my throat. I gagged at the unexpected thickness of it, the taste of strange chemicals, iron elements and proteins . . . but it could not be stopped.

The blood was already in my stomach and was in my body before I could reject it. My heart rate ricocheted into a speed as fast as the wing beat of a snitchet, and I was suddenly dying again, hands seized hold of my body and dragged me down, further into darkness than I ever would have liked.

"Hey."

Somewhere through the dark, thick fog there came a voice. At some point during the timelessness I was sure I had died; my heart and head and body had given out and I was sucked down into nothingness. But then I had been awakened. I was suddenly alive, my mind was alert, my body striving to live and I was forcing my way out of the darkness, rising up in a way that I had never known before.

"Hey, kid."

My mind went mad as I tried to remember. I remembered Tom, I remembered something falling from the sky, I remembered pushing Tom out of the way and the pain, _oh the bloody, endless pain_ . . . and then I had been conscious, Tom had pressed something against my lips and I had drunk mindlessly – but it was that drink that had caused me to die.

"Kid!"

I opened my eyes and saw the face that had haunted me. The face that was the last thing I remember seeing.

"Arghh!" I leapt up, literally. In a single movement I went from lying down to standing, my legs bent, arms dangling beside me. My hands, for whatever reason were rigidly held into claw-like gestures, a sign of defence or some such. The man, the creature, the _vampire_ opposite me stood, folded his arms, then threw back his head and laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" I snarled in a deeper voice than I had ever before managed. Then something unexpected happened – I growled; a long massive roar.

The vampire grinned, showing his trademark fangs and nodded towards me, "You kid, I'm laughing at you."

"_What_?"

He gestured at me. "I'm laughing at you."

He said in such a matter-of-fact way that at once my anger abated. I looked at him, studying his ashen-white face, his wide orange-red eyes and his brown hair that hung in dreadlocks around his face. Then I looked down at my hands and did a double-take.

They were just as pale.

"What on earth?"

Here, he said, leaning down. He took up a bowl from the forest floor, and passed it over to me. At first I feared to even touch it with my deadly white hands, but when I figured that they responded as much to my brain's signals as they ever had done I took it. Water sloshed over the sides onto my robes that were very much in tatters.

I looked down and found a broken reflection looking back at me. Hair fell past my eyes casting it into darkness. The vampire sighed, then grabbed me by the upper arm and with surprising strength dragged me back to a lighter area.

"Look," he held the bowl still with a hand. I looked.

And screamed. There was my face staring back. Or what should have been my face. It was ghastly, gaunt, pale and the vivid red eyes followed the exact wonderings of my own.

The vampire laughed. "Always the same reaction."

"What has happened?" I cried, "What on earth have you done?"

"Oh don't thank me or anything," he said sarcastically, releasing his hold so that the bowl became unstable and spilled. I dropped it. "It's not as if I saved you from a life of misery following that skinny brat."

"You mean Tom?"

"If that is his name. Pretty stupid you are, getting in with the likes of him. That's not going to be the last you ever see of that geek. Must have had some reason to . . ." The vampire tailed off, shrugged, and moved away a couple of steps. "Look, what is done is done. Now are you coming, kid?"

The bowl lay at my feet, my bare white feet that contrasted horribly with the forest floor. "What?" I said, surprised.

"You sure are full of questions," he said dully, "Now you can come with me, or stay here and starve, either way it's your choice."

He waited, and I had no idea what to say. I did not want to starve, but at the same time I had no idea what on earth to do now. I had been left here by Tom, left to die and now I was something far worse than I ever would have wanted. What did this mean, what was I supposed to do, what was this all –

"Kid!"

I looked over. The vampire stood ten feet away, glancing back over his shoulder, waiting for me to follow him. There was nothing around me but the bowl, and that was something I now wanted to get away from.

"Kid, you coming?"

"Stop calling me kid," I rebutted, sauntering over, dragging my feet, "My name is Xenophon."

"Sanguini," the vampire grinned, "Glad to have given you life. Now I hear the sound of Muggle hikers on the way, and I very much want to catch a bite to eat before we settle down for the day."

I said nothing. I shoved my hands into the depths of what remained of my pockets, and ran my tongue over the inside of my mouth. I felt the shape of sharpened canines, capable of penetrating skin, and I kept walking, out of the place where I had died, into a new life where I would be feared and hated by mostly everyone who ever met me.


End file.
